Page 20 of Falling for the Single Dad Firefighter

"That sounds perfect." I smooth a hand over her hair, fixing a crooked pigtail. "Did you help mix the batter?"

She nods proudly. "I'm the official pancake mixer. Daddy says my arm is getting strong from all the stirring."

"I bet it is." I press a kiss to the top of her head, breathing in the scent of her strawberry shampoo. "Should we go see how those pancakes are coming along?"

"Yep!" She bounces off the bed, energy radiating from her small frame. "Oh! And don't forget to bring Berry. He needs breakfast too."

Berry—the stuffed blue elephant that sits on our dresser. He was my gift to Mia on our first Christmas as a family, and he's rarely left her side since.

"We can't forget Berry," I agree seriously, retrieving the elephant and tucking him under my arm as we head toward the kitchen.

Samuel stands at the stove, his back to us, expertly flipping a pancake with a flick of his wrist. He's wearing the faded gray T-shirt I still steal regularly and flannel pajama pants, his hair slightly mussed from sleep. The sight of him—so domestic, so at ease in this life we've built—fills me with warmth.

"There she is," he says without turning, somehow sensing my presence. "I was about to send in the rescue squad."

"Daddy, I was the rescue squad," Mia giggles, skipping ahead of me to claim her seat at the table.

Samuel turns, and the look he gives me—part tenderness, part something more heated—still makes my heart skip after all this time. "Morning, teacher," he says.

"Morning, firefighter," I return, crossing to him for a kiss that tastes of coffee and promises. His free hand settles briefly on my still-flat stomach, a gesture that's become habit in the weeks since we discovered our newest family member is on the way.

"How are you feeling?" he murmurs against my hair.

"Good. Hungry," I admit. "Those pancakes smell amazing."

"One stack, coming right up." He presses another kiss to my forehead before turning back to the stove.

I pour myself a cup of coffee—decaf now, another small change in our routine—and settle at the table beside Mia, who's carefully arranging Berry in the fourth chair.

"Ms. Jenkins says we're getting a class pet," Mia announces, reaching for her orange juice. "Maybe a hamster or a guinea pig. We're voting on Friday."

"That's exciting," I say. "What are you going to vote for?"

"A guinea pig. They're fluffier." She takes a deliberate sip of juice. "Remember our class hamster?"

"I do, Mr. Whiskers. The hamster who supposedly could talk."

"Oh yeah!" Mia giggles. "Tyler made that up."

Samuel joins us, setting a plate of golden pancakes in the center of the table. "Speaking of Tyler, isn't his dad coming to career day next week? The marine biologist?"

"Yep. And Lily's mom the dentist, and Jamie's dad the architect." Mia counts on her fingers. "And you're coming too, right, Daddy? For firefighter day?"

"Wouldn't miss it," Samuel promises, sliding a pancake onto her plate. "As long as no emergencies come up."

The familiar rhythm of our Sunday continues—pancakes and conversation, Mia's stories from second grade, plans for the afternoon.

This is the life I never knew I wanted until I found it—roots sunk deep in the soil of Fox Ridge, a family built on quiet loveand everyday moments. I found all that and so much more in the steady gaze of a single father twelve years my senior and the tentative trust of his daughter.

After breakfast, Samuel and Mia head outside to check on the garden while I linger at the table, savoring the last of my coffee. Through the window, I watch them—Samuel pointing out something in the tomato plants, Mia crouching to examine it closely, their dark heads bent together in shared curiosity.

The sound of the front door opening breaks my reverie, "Anyone home? Uncle Jax has arrived with donuts!"

He appears in the kitchen doorway, holding a pink bakery box and wearing his sneaky grin. In jeans and a faded t-shirt, he looks more relaxed than the uniform-clad firefighter I first met, but no less charming.

"Morning, Rebecca," he says, setting the box on the counter. "Where's the rest of the Lewis clan?"

"Garden patrol," I reply, gesturing toward the backyard. "Help yourself to coffee. They'll be back soon."

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